Ello

How would a rose speak to me like the beauty it pronounces?
Even in death it's marvelous,
Its crisp petals,
Fragile leaves,
Scent of a dame.
Forgive me for ever plucking you from your bush of glamour,
Your words of imagination soothe this heart of mine,
The pines give you laughter,
The sun brings you joy,
The dew makes your skin glisten,.....
And I bring you sorrow for the love of a smile.